Nothing Gold Can Stay
by veraflynns
Summary: He thought there was some grand amount of karmic justice about to slam him in the face now. Months ago, he'd learned of his son's relationship with Katherine Beckett and had kept it quiet, wished it to sizzle out and disappear. He hadn't bargained for a change in relationship status. How was his son supposed to marry the daughter of the woman he killed? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**January 9, 1999**

The entirety of her walk, she'd felt Jackson's presence behind her. She wondered if he thought she knew anything, but knew a man was too stubborn as such to believe that there was a possibility that a woman could deduce a well-structured plan as fast as she did. Jim had warned her about this, warned her about sticking her nose in places it didn't belong because there were people who could easily decide one day to just… get rid of the problem.

She'd known Jackson Hunt had come to the firm she worked to kill her; she hadn't been stupid then and she wasn't stupid now. She just wished he would've given her another moment with her daughter, another moment with her husband; the ability to say goodbye, even.

With her shoulders hunched, Johanna curved into the alley, seemingly beckoning him closer. He found her there, staring straight at the people who passed by, their hollow gaze focused forward. This part of town was quiet, not as occupied. He knew she'd chosen this hideaway for a reason.

"Alexander," she cursed, watching as he stiffened in front of her. "Didn't think you fooled me with that _Jackson Hunt_ bullshit, did you? I have my sources too, you know."

"It isn't personal, Johanna," he told her slowly, lifting his gaze to meet hers. He gripped the handle of his knife a little harder, wishing that he'd brought his back up piece suddenly. There'd be nothing like staring her down while he did this. "It's just a job."

Johanna narrowed her gaze, staring at the blade in his palm and then lifted it back to him. "You're damn right it isn't," she told him as he took another step toward her, a slow walk to his destination. She'd fight him but it would be no use. Johanna Beckett was just too stubborn to go down without at least trying; that much he'd learned in their time together.

As he slid the knife into her back, staring her down, she ground her teeth together. "But mark my words," she gasped through the pain, squeezing her nails into the fabric of his jacket. "It will be."

Jackson Hunt prided himself in his ability to, without a moment's notice, attack his target and leave without a trace. Johanna Beckett, like many of the victims he had, was noted in the paper and police reports as a random stabbing. There were news shows around it for one day only and then, like most of his victims, it stopped. Johanna Beckett was nothing more than a footnote in news.

Pleased with himself, he'd left for Paris, for his next mission that would inevitably keep him there for years. He'd make enemies there, none more than he already had, and it would bring him to the moment when he'd meet a man he'd spent forty years ignoring the existence of. And then he'd meet Katherine Beckett, this man's girlfriend.

And Johanna Beckett's daughter.

It didn't take him long to gather the intel he needed on the relationship between his son and karmic justice. The relationship, started pseudo partnership, had begun four years prior to their meeting. Long after Richard had disappeared back to his life, he watched his son – just as he had for years – but now watched Katherine Beckett too; watched her dive into every little detail she could when it came to justice for her mother.

There might've been a moment, too, where he worried she might be his next hit, but it was fleeting.

In his years as an assassin, he's learned not to get involved emotionally with anything because life is fleeting and nothing stays the same. If he had a choice, he wouldn't have even met his son that fateful day. However, he feels as though there is something more to that, something more to his son falling in love with the daughter of one of his victims. He just can't put his finger on what exactly it was.

* * *

**1998**

"Hi," her voice was lighter than he'd imagined. Her appearance doesn't fit the light tinkle that comes out of her lips as she narrowed her eyes on him. "I don't recognize you," she confessed, almost shamefully. "That must mean you're new."

Her shoulder length hair as she swings forward, extending her palm toward him. He sees the man he easily identified as her husband still back in the entrance, speaking to another person he doesn't recognize; won't know the name of by the time he disappeared from this firm. Sinking to this new low of his, he's out of his place but in order to get close enough to Johanna Beckett to be able to complete this mission, he'd had to take out desperate measures.

Jackson had followed her for a week straight only to learn that outside of work and home, there hadn't been many places she went besides work and home. The only place he'd seen her wander besides was Bracken's district to torture him and he knew that cornering her there would only leave questions for his employer to answer. He wasn't stupid enough to bring this back to Bracken.

"I am," he smiled gently, clasping her palm in his own. "Just started today; the wife and I moved here from Chicago." Jackson recited the cover he's given like it was a line from a play and he were just the actor acting it out. There was no wife, no previous job in Chicago but if the credentials were needed, he'd be able to fabricate them. That was how he'd gotten the job in the first place, after all. "Jackson Hunt," he said politely, dropping his hand back to his side.

"My name's Johanna," she replied just as politely. Her husband bounced up next to her and he watched the interaction between them: the way her eyes narrowed as she placed her palm against his shoulder and shook her head. "You know, Jim," she sighed softly. "I think Katie's right, I think we have to stop giving you coffee in the morning."

Johanna's polite again as she and Jim leave, moving back to the office he easily identified as theirs. They seem to be pretty well enjoyed around here; it almost made him regret the reason why he was here. And why he'd disappear soon before she'd die. He'd make a big deal of it, too, say the city life wasn't just what his wife thought it would be.

The plan was simple.

* * *

**Present Day**

If there was one thing Richard Castle knew, it was that plans almost always go awry. Staring down at the tiny human in his arms is pure proof of that; Ryan and Jenny had almost everything planned when it came to the labor and delivery of their first born and yet absolutely nothing went to plan.

Sarah Grace is adorable and everyone in the small hospital room has agreed profusely. It made Castle nostalgic of the days when Alexis were this small. Alexis was so quiet all the time and Sarah is proving to be almost the same; he hoped for their friends' sake that it stayed this way.

He'd be thinking about his future with Kate a lot lately, even more so when he'd decided to propose to her. Their wedding, a possibility of a family, it was on his mind more frequently than it had ever been, especially with their case with Benny still so fresh in his mind. He wanted all these things with her, wanted to see her swollen with their child and raise three – she still thought he was crazy for believing in that number – cherubic angels that would be the perfect combination of him and her. A quick glance at his fiancé is all he needed to solidify the fact that it's been on her mind too. Not right away, no, when the time was right. They still had a wedding to get through first.

Sarah started to fuss against his chest and he was on his feet in what felt like milliseconds, calming her successfully before he laid her out in Jenny's arms. The blond was glowing and he smiled warmly at her and then moved back across the room to the vacant chair at his fiancé's side. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and held him there for a long moment.

They'd disappear within the next ten minutes when Sarah became cranky and it was obvious she was hungry. Kate was already falling asleep against his shoulder and he knew the day had drained all of them immensely. He was filled with gratitude that it hadn't gone horribly after all.

The next day, they moved onto the crime scene, their playful banter suddenly amplified that particular morning. Their victim's name is Ted Rollins, found in the shower by the hand of an unidentified phone call from Ted's phone – which Lanie expressed was impossible considering the time of death was hours before. It didn't add up, and those were the type of cases that Castle loved the most. The mystery and the intrigue was exactly why he'd become a mystery writer but since working with Beckett, he'd grown more fond of the cases that weren't just 'he was stabbed in the heart by a raging mistress' but instead open ended with more questions than answers.

He bit his tongue to ensure the mild excitement didn't show too much; this was a crime scene and someone was dead.

"So the killer shot him and then called 911?" He narrowed his gaze at the body, wondering what on earth this man could've done that still left the killer with the ability to call 911 on his behalf, so he'd be found.

"Except our victim was not shot in this apartment," Lanie said pointedly, starting straight at Castle as she spoke.

Kate moved back in from the other room, catching the end of what Lanie was saying. "And how do we know that?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. Kate wasn't very impressed with that answer, he could tell, but he was already feeling the workings of a theory in the back of his mind. One that could possible make his fiancé roll her eyes to the next dimension, but those were the best ones.

Oh, this case was going to be great. He could already feel it.

* * *

**1998**

"There's a woman set out to ruin me," William Bracken is nothing short of curt. The first thing the man said to him as soon as the heavy door was shut was all business. No 'hi, hello, how's your day?' Jackson liked him immensely more suddenly. He'd had clients before that had dragged him through their issues and frankly, he didn't have time to grant William the same courtesy.

Bracken sat back in his chair, eyes diverting from his own as he reached into a locked desk and pulled out a file, slapping it on the desk in front of him. "There's everything you need to know about her, about what she is trying to do to sabotage my future." He leaned forward on his elbows, pressing up just enough to strengthen his stature.

Jackson took another step and lifted up the file, the face and index label empty and he shifted the file between his hands to open it, staring at the face of a middle aged brunette. He couldn't help but think she was beautiful, even though he'd always had a thing for red heads over everything else. He looked over papers that were handwritten letters to Bracken, never typed. She was passionate about her cause.

"Her name is Johanna Beckett," Bracken said slowly, angrily. "She's been a pain in my ass since the first day she showed up at my office and I want her eliminated as soon as possible. Your funds will be wire transferred to your bank account as soon as the job is done."

Jackson closed the file and slid it into bag he carried over his shoulder, straightening his back the same way the man had just moments before. He wasn't entirely sure if it were to mimic him or not. "Is there a timeline, Mr. Bracken?"

William stilled on that, gritting his teeth. "My team and I have been discussing the possibility of running for congressmen. If she is there to diminish my chances when election season is running, well… there's a possibility it won't go well for me." Jackson rolled through the dates in his head and nodded curtly.

"Six months, then," Jackson said out loud. "Shouldn't be a problem, Mr. Bracken; I'll contact you when it's done."

Without another word, the man turned and left the office, disappearing back to the lonely hotel room he would call home for the next few weeks until the job was done and then he'd disappear once more; he was very good at that. A quick look at the file that Bracken provided him gave him enough information about Johanna Beckett to know it would be easy to slip out of her life.

Even easier to slip her out of life.

* * *

**A/N: **This is absolutely the most excited I've been to write anything in my entire life. I hope you all enjoy the ride we are about to take. Thank you to Beanie for helping me sort out the title issue and then Nadia and Nen for yelling at me last night when I was plotting this. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**1998**

If there is one thing he is excellent at, it is the art of deception. It'd only been a few weeks of hard work, but he'd easily become of the most requested lawyers the firm had. It was such a shame that most of them would be left with the cases when he disappeared in only a handful of weeks. Bracken had left him messages through the woodwork; had requested why Johanna Beckett wasn't dead yet multiple times.

He didn't have any answer for that.

Stepping away from his desk, he made a casual step toward the break room, which was in the same direction as her office. It was late December by now, any plans she would have would be familial solely but he needed a moment, any moment, which would permit him a moment in private with her; a moment that wasn't in the office with multiple witnesses.

Johanna caught his glance as he moved into the office and smiled, waving him forward. "Well," she grinned wryly, leaning against her palm. "If it isn't the most popular guy on this side of the town," she drew out teasingly.

For a moment, he regretted his mission. Johanna was a nuisance, of course, but she was nothing short of dedicated for her job. But, like most moments he had, it was fleeting and left before he could think twice about stepping into her office in hopes to get a glance of her schedule. "Well, you know, I'm only doing the very best that I possibly can for this firm."

As he stepped closer, he noticed the stack of Richard Castle books and froze, gritting his teeth. His son's novels were fairly popular, but he hadn't imagined they'd be featured in the bookshelves that sat behind Johanna's desk, or that someone who spent most of her time fighting crimes like this would want to read books like that in her free time.

"Something wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as a sound appeared from her computer. He must've jumped at it because she shyly explained it was an email. He offered a smile in return.

"Uh, no, nothing," he stared back at the row. "You're a fan, I take it?" He asked, gesturing to the row of books. Johanna turned around to see what he was pointing at and then turned back around, nodding slowly.

There was an indescribable smile on her face. "He's a good writer." She told him, almost as though she were standing up for something she believed in. He narrowed his gaze, wondering if he'd ever get the chance to understand this enigma of a woman, but he didn't think time allowed it. "My Katie loves him, though she'll never admit that."

Katie Beckett was constant conversation around the office; she was studying to join the business and he stilled every time he heard about her, feeling somewhat irresponsible for taking a woman away from her family. He'd done worse, though, and with a soft smile he excused himself and slipped back into the break room. Jackson cursed himself the moment he walked inside. He hadn't caught a glimpse of her calendar, had been too distracted by the memory of his son to worry about it.

Damn it. He had to act fast.

* * *

**Present Day**

Beckett narrowed her glance at the victim once more, staring intensely at the shoe before it clued into her. "Wait a minute. These two shoelaces are tied differently."

Castle tilted his head to the side. "That is odd," he said, moving to step closer to what Beckett had just brought up when the floor creaked underneath his foot. His gaze fell to the floor, foot pressing on the floorboard as it seemed to dip down under his weight. "This is even more odd."

Beckett took a few steps closer to where Castle stood, her gaze on the ground next to his. "What are you doing?" She asked as he stepped away, reaching for something behind him.

Castle took a step back once the floorboards were pulled away, staring down into the hole in the ground. "Looks like Ted's got a secret compartment. And what's a secret compartment without a secret?"

The computer was a bust, originally. Tory seemed just as confused with the encryption software as he was and that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something about this case that just didn't add up. Well, multiple things that didn't add up, but this especially. They left Tory to fight the demon that was the laptop and moved into the break room, Castle on her heels.

"There's something about this case…" he shook his head as she poured them both coffee, putting the extra fixings he liked. "I don't know what it is, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something about this case we're missing."

"And what could we be missing?" Beckett's eyes narrow toward him.

Castle straightened up. "Well, for one, why was the body moved? Why did the killer drag him as far as he did… just to bring him back to his apartment?" Kate pulled a face as he spoke, seemingly asking the same question in her mind, but when she refocused on Castle, she came up with nothing. "And then we have this hacker who has an encryption software on his laptop that would put the military to shame and why? Why is he dead? Was he selling military secrets? Watching internet porn and didn't want his folks to find out?"

Beckett rolled her eyes and handed him his coffee, lifting hers to her lips. "I don't know, Castle," she told him gently. "But we'll find out in due time. We just have to let Tory do her thing and keep searching for answers of our own."

Beckett disappeared out of the break room after pressing her lips to his cheek, the scent of coffee on her breath a welcoming surprise. She was right; he couldn't over analyze the case this early. With a sigh, he settled into the chair with his coffee and took another long sip, trying to shake the feeling of impending doom that settled over him.

* * *

When Tory finally hacked into the system and lead them to Anderson Cross, Castle couldn't have anticipated the consequences that would come out of it. His fiancée was light when they walked in, bringing up his mother's earlier comment about eloping. He had to admit, the thought had been weighing heavily on his mind but in the same breath, he felt compelled to give Kate everything she had ever dreamed – even if she swore she never dreamed of such things – for their wedding.

"Beckett, I promise you. There is a perfect date for our perfect wedding and we will find it. Trust me." He told her, meaning it, as they walked into the office and she began to turn toward the receptionist's desk.

"I do," she murmured dryly, laughing quietly at her own joke.

"Oh, wedding humor. Nice." He chuckled lightly and she hummed in satisfaction, turning to greet the receptionist.

Jackson knew they were there before his receptionist tried to reach him; a feeble attempt, of course, but he'd been watching, waiting. He'd been on edge since leaving Ted Rollins body in the Detective Beckett's jurisdiction, knowing that it would eventually involve his son in some way. This wasn't his way of trying to maintain a connection with Richard, but he was sure it'd be taken as such. This was his way of keeping an eye on Katherine.

His call to his son was just courtesy, a hope that it would give him a moment to process what he was about to see. He wasn't Anderson Cross, no, but he wasn't Jackson Hunt either.

Jackson stepped out of the boardroom where he'd been hiding, catching Richard's gaze with a grain of salt. It was a mixture of surprise and happiness, oddly considering any other man who'd been without his father for forty years probably would have rather gunned him down than made friends with him. "Hello there. I'm Anderson Cross." He held his hand out for the Detective. Richard is slower to join them, he noticed, but didn't comment on it.

Katherine extends her hand in his direction and shook it slowly. "Hi, I'm Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." She smiled the faintest of smiles, almost as polite as he remembered Johanna being the first time they met.

Jackson straightened himself and stared her down. "Detective Beckett, so nice to meet you," he told her, meaning it. He'd been the same way the moment he'd met her mother. Politeness was one thing he could afford to share around.

It threw her off, he noticed, although he couldn't imagine why. She stuttered she introduced his son and he challenged Richard, asking him again. Richard was no less shocked.

"So why don't we go into the conference room where we can talk?" He asked, looking down at Katherine as warmly as he could manage. She seemed relieved to not have to meet his gaze a beat longer and began her journey toward the room in question. Richard, though, has to prod and pick and he glared gently. "Not a word," he told him, expecting a challenge. Richard backed down almost instantly.

He knew who she was before he saw her, but seeing her there brought him back to the last moment he spent with Johanna, the strain in her gaze is the very same that lay within her daughter. She was watching him, analyzing whether he was lying or not. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be as easy for her to deliberate the answer to that question. Another of the many things he prided himself on was the fact that he had an almost impenetrable poker face.

"Um, do you know a man named Ted Rollins?" She wasn't as suave as he would've pictured, maybe his appearance threw her for a loop, but it only took a moment of her eye diversion to notice that something else was on her mind. He stiffened and shifted his gaze to Richard, who was eerily quiet in that moment.

Jackson found it amusing considering the day they'd met, the only thing Richard had had for him was words; countless, angry words because he'd shot his phone. "No, I – I don't believe I do. Why?" He cleared his throat quietly, clenching his fists on the table.

His son's fiancé shifted again, struggling to gain control of the interrogation. "He was murdered last night." She said plainly.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Oh. Okay. I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

Katherine, he had learned in the past few moments spent being the subject of her interrogation, doesn't back down easily. As unsteady as she was coming into the boardroom, the shell of the uncomfortable woman he'd first met was gone in an instant and she spit out questions faster than he could think of intelligible answers that would keep him out of trouble.

He understood why his son was so enamoured with this woman, but at the same time felt a sickness roll within him as he remembered what he'd done. It's been fifteen years now, but her face still haunts his dreams and he thought there was some grand amount of karmic justice about to slam him in the face now. Months ago, he'd learned of his son's relationship with Katherine Beckett and had kept it quiet, wished it to sizzle out and disappear. He hadn't bargained for a change in relationship status. How was his son supposed to marry the daughter of the woman he killed?

Jackson made a split second decision: Richard had to know.

* * *

A/N: This is quite possibly the worst chapter of this one, but stick around kiddos. This fic's gonna be a rough one. Next update will be posted Monday. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Castle didn't know whether to be relieved or angered that his father was alive and in New York. He'd wondered for so many months after Alexis' kidnapping, wondered if he'd gotten out alive or if he'd gone down honourably. Unfortunately, the latter didn't seem like a possibility.

He remained quiet the entire ride back to the morgue, his feet bouncing against the floor of the car – which didn't go unnoticed by his fiancée, but he'd dismissed her with a soft, "just nerves" and hadn't elaborated any further. His mind was still in a meld; how on earth was he supposed to think straight when his father was back in his life and connected to a case they were investigating?

Lanie perked up when they entered the morgue, staring at him a beat longer than she should've normally. Maybe Kate had texted her something regarding his behaviour, but he thought he was just being paranoid and watched as she and Lanie spoke about the victim. "At the time of his death, Ted had a coin in his right sock. Due to rigor mortis an impression remained, including these faint markings. You see that?"

Beckett moved closer instinctively, narrowing her eyes at the spot on his foot and he hovered back, not meaning to, but when it caught her attention, he shrivelled further, bouncing back to his old self in milliseconds. Fake until you make it, he supposed. He'd been good at it in his earlier days of writing.

"Hey, Castle. You with us?" His fiancée asked softly, worry etching her face. He couldn't help but feel guilty again, keeping this piece of information from her. It would be so easy, but then he'd be putting himself in an awkward position because how was he supposed to investigate a case where his father was the main suspect?

"Yeah. Yeah." He stepped closer to the body, looking at the indent on his foot. "Of course."

Beckett looked visibly worried, still, but she didn't ask him about it yet. He thanked her silently for that, not sure what he would say or how he would say it. He needed to follow this case through until the end, find the answers he desperately needed; not just for himself, but for his father.

"Uh, let me get this straight. So after Ted was shot, the killer took off the shoe and sock, took the coin, and put the shoe and sock back on?" Beckett straightened up from hovering over the body, confusion spreading her features.

"It must have been a valuable coin." He interjected, meeting Lanie's gaze.

"Actually, it wasn't. I did some enhancement and based on the coin's diameter and the markings, we've identified it as an Iranian rial. Worth less than a penny." Lanie enhanced the picture on the tablet in her hand until the picture of the rial sat beside the picture of the victim's foot. Castle was confused now, too; why did Ted have a coin worth less than a penny in his shoe and what did it have anything to do with the case they were currently working?"

"Wow, an Iranian rial, huh?" She raised an eyebrow slowly. Beckett, on the other hand, looked to her fiancé with wonderment, waiting for the crazy theory that was coming up. Instead, she saw him staring at the body blankly, as though he couldn't put two and two together. "Castle? No theories on international intrigue or covert espionage?"

Castle's head bounced back up, pulling an unimpressed face and then speaking, "we really don't have the information to speculate at this point."

He tried to ignore how much that threw Beckett for a loop and turned his attention back to the body. Why Ted Rollins? What did he have to do with his father and more importantly, what was so important that his father _had_ to be affiliated with this case? None of it made sense at all.

* * *

Beckett couldn't ignore the feeling that Castle was, somehow, hiding something from her on this case. The same feeling of apprehension that had followed her from their meeting with Anderson Cross settled within her again as they moved from the morgue, Castle moving a little too fast for her today.

She grabbed his arm and tugged him back, watched the confusion settle on his features as he swung around to face her. She chewed on her lower lip and looked into his eyes, suddenly wishing that she could read his mind successfully. "Rick," she said softly, slowly. "What's going on?"

He bounced back from the confusion quickly, the smile on his face almost taking the edge of her apprehension and curiosity, but not quite. The smile was too forced, too thought out and she forced herself not to question or doubt him. The last time he'd acted like this, though, he'd gone off and met Jacinda and brought her to a crime scene to show her off, just to hurt Beckett. She couldn't help but flash back to that moment now, couldn't help but feel the apprehension toward her fiancé.

What would be hiding from her?

"Nothing," he beamed finally. "This case just has me rolling over all kinds of theories," his voice is strained more than she could remember it being earlier, but she doesn't push, instead she sighed and relented to his thoughts. If he had something to tell her, she would be the first to know – this much she was sure about. "Nothing's going on, Beckett, I promise." He told her and pressed a kiss against her temple.

Before she could argue, he was in front of her again, moving toward the elevator while she hovered back, worry filling her.

* * *

"Have you noticed anything going on with Rick?" She asked later, squeezed between two red heads in the kitchen. Both of them turned their head slowly, looking at her quietly. Castle had made some half assed excuse that he had a meeting with Black Pawn and wouldn't be home until later and told her to go enjoy the chicken that Alexis had prepared.

Alexis furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly analyzing everything about Beckett; she felt scrutinized. "Like what?" She asked curiously, almost simultaneously to the time that Martha piped up and asked the same question.

"It's nothing, really," she told them, lifting mashed potatoes into her mouth to keep her from blurting out everything that had gone over the past day. After a moment of chewing and then swallowing, she straightened her back. "I don't know what it is… we're doing this case now and I've never seen him so on edge. He's defensive and I feel like he's lying to me."

Alexis furrowed her eyebrows again, this time for an entirely different reason. "What case is it?"

"Some college kid found in his bathtub that has hacking abilities well beyond most people," Kate shrugged, keeping it short and simple. She wasn't necessarily allowed to share information like this; it was going against the code that she'd sworn into when she'd become a cop but there was more on the line than just the injustice of breaking a code. "Nothing that makes sense, really, he's been acting weird since we spoke to this suspect earlier."

Alexis studied Kate for another beat before she dropped her head and shrugged her shoulder. "No idea," she said with a laugh. "Maybe he's getting a hernia from holding back on his conspiracy theories."

"Speaking of Richard," Martha spoke softly. "Where is he?"

Beckett turned to her, shaking her head slowly. "He said he had a meeting with Black Pawn, but I know his schedule better than he does, I don't remember him saying he had a meeting until today."

Her red head counterparts both looked at each other and then Beckett before Martha sighed softly. "Richard's up to something," she said finally. "And that's almost never a good thing."

* * *

Jackson had thought about a moment like this for such a long time, although he'd thought the confession would've come from behind bars and certainly not because he willingly spoke of it. In his imagination, William Bracken had screwed up and taken him down with him, along with anybody else who had lived within the cross hairs of his life.

Richard came from behind him, sat in the booth with a force that shook the entire seat. He looked tired, drained and angry. For such a public place, he should've thought to allow them some privacy for this moment, but he knew that Richard wouldn't have anything to do with moving to a more private location. Not now, not when he had so much to answer for.

"Hi," his voice is a lot angry than before when they'd spoken on the phone, but he couldn't be bothered to point it out now. If anything, it would only encourage the temper tantrum that was brewing. "Glad to see you are finally answering my texts," he added a few moments later, still angry.

"I'm a busy man, Richard," Jackson replied coolly, taking a sip of his coffee. The lovely waitress had given him a piece of pie to accompany his treat this afternoon. He'd almost wanted to ask for another, but at that point, it would be stalling the inevitable. "You can't possibly believe that you'd drop everything on the planet to come and see me."

"I just did!" Richard rushed, too fast for him to understand and at the cock of an eyebrow; his son repeated what he just said. "I hate lying to Kate," He added, sighing softly. "She worked Alexis' case, you know, eventually she's going to put two and two together and know you were affiliated with that somehow. She won't know _who_ you are, but that's where I come in."

The wry smile that crossed Richard's face wasn't something that he could easily ignore. Of course, his son was emotionally invested in this _Kate_ and felt remorse for hiding behind her back and not confessing what had shaken him up so much from re-meeting his father once more. There had been no guarantee that involving his son in this would have any kind of positive output, but he'd taken his chance.

Maybe he'd have to stop taking those.

"What Katherine doesn't know, won't kill her." He said as he sipped, watching the rage fill within his son's eyes. Of course Richard would react irrationally and appear like he was going to punch him out for not being on his side with this, but his son had lived a far different life than he'd permitted himself to live. The mere few hours he'd spent with Martha were leisure and had left him with a burden he'd have to deal with now. "Or I suppose, it might kill you."

Richard wasn't as receiving to his joke. "Why am I here, _Anderson_?" He snarled, the anger delighting Jackson more than it angered him.

"Can't catch up with you without having an ulterior motive?" He was stalling now, unaware of where to start and how to make everything seem like it wasn't his problem exactly, just something he got himself mixed up in accidentally. There'd been regret filled within him over the past few days since meeting Katherine, regret that hadn't been there the first time he'd learned whom his son was planning to marry next.

With a sigh, Jackson finished his coffee and set the cup aside, leaning against the table on his elbows. Richard flinched, his back pressing uncomfortably against the seat of the booth and for a long moment, there was silence. Jackson took a deep breath.

"Son," he paused, staring Rick down. "There's something you have to know about me… things I've done that I'm not that proud of."

Intrigued, Richard pressed forward, undoubtedly running through the first time they'd met in his mind, everything he'd told him then. His son's writer mind had an attention for detail that even he didn't withhold; he couldn't naturally tell a single truth he'd told him that day. When it appeared as though Rick was going to argue with him, he pressed his palm against his shoulder slowly.

"No, Richard, you need to hear this," he told him, striking down the last bit of guilt that swelled within him. "16 years ago, I met a woman named Johanna Beckett," his son swelled at that name, eyes filled with confusion and wonder. "Fifteen years ago, son, I murdered her."

* * *

A/N: Here we go, folks.


	4. Chapter 4

Beckett would have been lying if she said she wasn't waiting up for Castle that night, who's 'meeting' had ran far longer than what she could remember most meetings running. When the door finally opened and shut for the final time that night, she expected her husband to come to bed right away, their day inevitably early again. Instead, he moved as far as his office and sat down in his chair, opening his laptop.

She furrowed her eyebrows and slid out of bed, padding across the hardwood floor until she hovered at the entrance of the office. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared a moment longer, clearing her throat. Castle jumped and lifted his head slowly. "Oh, Beckett," he sounded surprised, the same kind of surprise she would have expected if this had been a year ago and he hadn't expected her to be in his bed that night. But they'd been engaged for months, now, and she'd been a constant presence in his bed for almost double that.

"How'd your meeting go?" She asked, moving around the chair to drape herself across his back, pressing her mouth against his cheek. He tried not to stiffen, to remember his father's words but they were ringing in his head like church bells. She laid her head against his and closed her eyes, hooking her fingers together over the centre of his chest.

"Oh, you know," he shrugged one shoulder carefully. "Mostly just Gina yelling at me for not having the next five chapters already written; it's going to be a long night," he tried to make a joke out of it, but it fell short.

"You won't be coming with me to the precinct tomorrow, then?" She asked, sounding more tired by the second. He shrivelled a little, hating that he should've known that she would have waited up for him, but he'd hid in his office at The Old Haunt for a few moments too long just to figure out what he was going to say when he came home. What was there to say?

He pulled her arms from around his neck and rolled around in the chair, tugging her down against him, pressing his mouth against her temple. She slumped against him, too tired to fight it. They'd done this before, her asleep against his chest while he wrote, but he knew she had an early morning so he rubbed her back and told her to go to bed, he'd be there in a few hours and she nodded, sleepily walking back to the bed and settling back down. He didn't move until he heard her snoring from the next room.

He felt bad for not being as open as he would've liked, but his mind was still reeling from everything that Jackson had told him. How William Bracken had hired him, how he'd befriended Beckett's mother months before her murder. It'd been cold and calculated and everything he'd ever idolized about the man he hadn't known was quickly crumpled into a pile of ash.

He leaned forward on his elbows, burying his face in his hands. He had no idea what to do anymore.

* * *

The next day, he came into the precinct later than usual, only to learn that there was a new crime scene and surveillance videos that showed Jackson Hunt there on the night that Ted Rollins was murdered. He watched it with horror in his eyes and instinctively jumped to protect him, although he wasn't sure why. The fact that his father was at the crime scene where this man had been killed couldn't have been a coincidence, even he knew that, and yet he jumped.

He tried to ignore the look of confusion and almost anger that crossed Beckett's face as she stared back at him. He diverted his gaze to the screen in front of him, staring at the crisp white hair. There had to be a better explanation than what he was coming up with; than what Beckett was coming up with. There had to be some semblance of an answer out there. He just had to figure out what it was.

"So what, he just happened to be there two hours after Ted hacked his company?" Esposito moved to save Beckett and help her; Castle knew that he'd be on her side, still wondered from time to time what happened between them but that wasn't the point in the case right then. No, it was the fact that his father already had one body on his hands and he wasn't sure if he could process if he had another.

In his experience with the NYPD, he'd learned, though, that it was almost never the first suspect that they dealt with. There was no way his father could be that careless. He'd gone fifteen years with Johanna Beckett's murder under his belt and actually managed to poke it on someone else in the process.

His stomach turned as he met Kate's gaze; bad example.

"I – see – Anderson Cross as the killer? It's the obvious choice." He tried to defend, but his defense is weak and even he knew it. He just had to try and get Beckett away from it all. His fiancée was headstrong, he knew, but maybe if he could talk to her and help her see things his way. But how was he supposed to? He was still running into a problem with being biased over everything. If he told her what he knew, he might never stop and end up spewing whom was her mother's killer in the same breath.

Both Beckett and Esposito looked unimpressed at him and he watched with hesitancy as Beckett told Tori to pursue the lead and get everything she could on Anderson Cross and his company. He felt a mixed sensation roll through him when, only a moment later, Tori declared that there was no site in his name. His father had destroyed everything and _oh god,_ this looked worse than it was meant to, right? He wasn't losing his mind.

Beckett took a step closer to the screen, still featuring the side on shot of Jackson Hunt. "Who the hell is this guy? He's obviously not a banker." Her head cocked to the side the longer she stared at the photo and then, like lightening tricking the ground, she was away from the screen, eyes wide. "I know why he looks so familiar." She declared, stepping away from the screen and him and moving out of the room.

"Where are you going?" He called, desperately trying to grasp onto his sanity. There was no way… was there?

"To check something." She called as she left the room, chasing down the hall.

* * *

He can't even be surprised when Jackson doesn't answer his phone calls; can't even bring himself to be anything other than angry at the man because how on earth could he bring him into the middle of this? He was living such a happy life before he knew this man existed. His stomach twisted and turned the more he thought about the man he was instinctively backing up was the same man that killed the mother of the woman he loved.

He was such a damn fool for wanting all of this to be wrong, for still believing in him even though the evidence stood against him. The possibility that Castle could be wrong in all of this was substantial and he couldn't forget that, even as he stared at his text screen and begged Jackson to answer the damn phone and meet him at the park. He couldn't go back to the coffee shop; not with the sour taste it left in his mouth.

Esposito was in front of him before he pressed send, making him bounce back in shock. Esposito seemed defensive today, getting a little too close to his face for his liking – almost as if he sensed there was something extremely wrong with Castle. Castle only hoped he'd been better at hiding it all that it worked to confuse his co-workers and fiancée into thinking there was nothing wrong at all.

But then, Esposito informed him that Anderson Cross' office had disappeared entirely, there was no trace to him at all and he became desperate, slamming his thumb against the glass screen of his phone to finish the message and send it to him. His anger for sticking up for him didn't subside as he slid onto the desk across from the murder board and listened in on their speculation.

Beckett entered the bull pen a moment later, carrying papers in the crook of her arm. His eyes searched his partner for some indication that there was something he was missing. There had to be. "We've crossed paths before." She announced to the small group. And then she pasted a sketch of his father next to the sketch they'd received earlier and his heart sunk. "Check this out." She pointed at the sketch. "Remember this guy? Alexis's kidnapping last year."

His face dropped significantly as he stared at the picture. This couldn't be good at all. But still, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was trying to rationalize everything, trying to make it fit into the picture he was thinking of. There had to be some indication that all of this was a set up.

"Damn, that's right. Uh … witnesses kept seeing him pop up at locations associated with her abduction." Ryan interjected and for a moment, Castle hated him. He needed an explanation, needed for something in this case to point someone else out. But it didn't.

Esposito perked up too, bouncing off the energy from his partners that they seemed to be close to a potential suspect and Castle clenched his fists at his side. "At each one of those locations there was a dead body."

Beckett nodded to herself, turning back to the group. "So I sent the video surveillance to a friend of mine in the AG's office and he got a hit. Now he couldn't get into details, but he did say that this guy is a former CIA operative."

Castle caught onto her last word with a deep sigh nestled in his chest. Oh no, no. He didn't believe in his father only for it to all fall down on him. Jackson had told him he was still current with the CIA, had even went into detail that he'd started out as a sniper for them and had branched off to private businesses when he moved up. That was how he'd met Bracken. "Wait a minute," he said finally, clenching his jaw. "Former?"

Beckett narrowed her eyes at him, curious as to _why_ he was questioning information that he'd just been told but she didn't bring it up in the middle of this. The group was entirely too excited from the new information, with the exception of Castle who'd slumped down, unacknowledged to everyone else. "Yeah. He, uh … he was disowned for an unauthorized assassination. He was sentenced to life, broke out, killed three guys in the process. This guy's wanted by our government. Now my friend said the rumor is he's working as a hitman. And if we get eyes on him the AG's office wants us to call them so they can send in a strike team." Beckett told the group and then Castle tuned out, staring down at his phone

_We have some things to talk about_, he typed to Jackson. _Answer right away. Or I'll turn you in myself_.

His phone buzzed in his palm a minute later. _I'll be at your home shortly._

Castle watched as both Ryan and Esposito disappeared away from the bullpen and narrowed his eyes, wondering what they were chasing but he hadn't been paying attention. "Castle, did you ever see this man in Paris?" Beckett's voice made him jump slightly and he turned toward her, staring at the pictures.

Even though he was freaking out on the inside, he managed to give her a soft smile. "Not that I can remember. Why don't you text me those sketches? I'll have Alexis come over, see if she recognizes him." He began to move toward the door, but Beckett had other ideas, chasing after him with her voice and stalling him.

"You want me to come along?" She asked, and he knew that she was only asking to be polite but it made him crazy. No, she couldn't come along so he could go chew out his father. She couldn't know what he knew; not yet.

"Uh, no. No, no. I'll – uh … call you." He was scrambling for some words from the English dictionary to help him out, but he couldn't speak properly. His mind was rolling with thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Beckett asked, tilting her head to the side. Castle stared back, wondering if she was questioning whether he was being entirely truthful to her and he begged she wouldn't press anymore. He had to go home, make sure his mother was still at her class and that Alexis was nowhere to be seen if he had a chance at keeping this quiet.

"Yeah," he said finally, not elaborating and then turned, heading straight for the elevator.

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Jackson was already waiting for him when he got there and after the man assured him they were the only ones in the home, Castle was free to let all the anger that burrowed within him go free. "What aren't you telling me about this Ted Rollins character?"

Jackson ignored him for a moment, standing from the couch and pressing a palm against his abdomen. "I didn't kill him," Jackson told him. "But he was onto me, he knew who I was and was ready to turn me into the authorities. Which would have been pretty ironic considering that he was the one usually being arrested," he laughed as though he'd told a joke, but Castle didn't find it funny. "Oh, relax, Richard, it wouldn't hurt you to crack a smile every now and again."

Castle just glared a little harder, staring at him until he saw red appear under his father's palm and the anger flashed to worry. "What's going on, Dad?" He asked; the sound foreign to his tongue.

"Oh, this? That's nothing," he pulled his hand away and inspected the spot. "I was just shot on my way here."

* * *

A/N: Thank you immensely to those whom have reviewed and alerted this fic. It means a lot. And I apologize for the delay with this chapter; Technical difficulties.


	5. Chapter 5

Irritation had rolled off her all day. With no real clues as to what was going on in Castle's mind, she'd dug a hole deeper into this case and forced herself to keep going, keep digging, because if she allowed herself a single moment to think about that maddening man, she might go crazy herself.

Eventually, Gates told her to go home and she was glad to accept the offer, the frustration and irritation rolling off her and instead, sleepiness taking over. She was home in record time and while sitting in the elevator, she couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. It seemed silly, considering she didn't necessarily believe in any of that, but as she stood outside the loft, her key in the lock, she had to take a moment to reassure herself that Castle hadn't totally lost his mind.

Instead, she found Anderson Cross on her couch, holding a red piece of gauze against his abdomen. She dropped her keys in the bowl and slammed the door shut, taking a few steps into the home and looking around. "Richard Edgar Castle," she called, angrier than she'd been all day. When her fiancé appeared from the bedroom, carrying wet towels, he stopped short under her heated gaze.

"Hey… babe," he slowed and she saw Martha come out behind him, looking confused for a moment before she stopped too, a sheepish look crossing her features.

"Castle," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "What's the main suspect of my murder investigation doing on _my_ couch?" She asked, squeezing her hands into tiny fists. She hovered on the edge of screaming on him, but knew it would do nothing but make her throat sore.

"Well, about that…" he looked between Martha and Anderson. "Kate," he sighed. "Meet your future father-in-law."

* * *

She thought she was angry the day she found out her father told her high school crush to leave her alone because she was going places and he, well, he wasn't. But that anger seemed like a joke compared to the anger that ripped through her now. It was the very same anger that sent her across the room in only a handful of steps and grabbed Castle by the ear, tugging him back toward their bedroom.

"You have two minutes to explain to me what the _hell_ is going on, Castle because I swear to god, if you don't start talking soon, I'm going to shoot."

Castle shrivelled and stared down at the towels in his hand and she thought for a moment maybe she should have let Martha take those before she took him away but then she reminded herself that it was just something she could strangle him with if it came to it. And yet, as menacing as she liked to believe she was right then, he said nothing. She crossed her arms over her chest and counted to ten in her head, trying in vain to keep herself calm because every worst case scenario was rolling through her head – the star being that Castle and his family were in on this and they were planning to help Anderson Cross escape to a non-extradition country before she could file charges. While it didn't make sense _why_ they would, she worried for it to be the reality the most.

"Rick," she sighed softly. "You have two choices: either tell me what's going on right now, or I'm leaving and when I come back, I'm going to have uniforms with me. Two for him and another two for you for aiding and abetting a suspect!"

"Kate… I…" he trailed off, dipping his head lower. "I can't… I.."

Beckett stared at him, slowly and carefully. "Well," she sighed, licking her lower lip slowly. "Then don't try to stop me."

She pulled her piece out of its holster and moved into the room where Martha was attending to a bullet wound. Lifting her gun in the air, she stared at Anderson Cross, watching the amusement and shock mix fill his features.

"Anderson Cross," she said slowly, coolly. "You're under arrest for the murder of Ted Rollins."

This whole thing was silly; she didn't have back-up, she didn't even have her partner on her side but she was bound and determined to complete this, to not worry about Castle and whatever the hell he was doing with this. He may be part of the reason Castle was on earth, but that didn't make him any less of a murderer.

"Before you do, Detective," Anderson's eyebrows lift in amusement, but she sees the anger that rushes through his eyes. He was brewing something evil. She couldn't imagined what it was. "There's something you should know about me." He said, waiting a moment. But when he realized she wasn't taking the bait, he cast a glance at Richard as he hovered behind her. "Why don't you ask him about it?"

She tossed a look behind her where Castle was standing, feeling her whole world crumble around her suddenly. "Castle?" She asked, her voice wavering. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Beckett… I… maybe we should talk about this somewhere else." His voice wavered too, but for an entirely different reason and she shook her head quickly. No, she was going to sit there until Anderson played whatever card he had in his mind. And then she was going to arrest him and be a national hero for getting this scum off the earth. They'd have maximum security for him now, even higher than the level he'd been in before. He deserved it.

"No," she cut out, pressing her lips in a fine line. "Now, Castle, spit it out."

Castle hesitated, but she didn't bring her gun down to look at him. As much as she knew Anderson was injured, she too knew he was an ex-CIA agent and knew that if he wanted to get her gun, he would. She couldn't risk that.

"Castle?" She asked again, fingers clutching the trigger of the gun.

"Beckett…" he trailed off, casting a glance in the direction of his father, desperate. But Anderson offered him nothing back.

"Go on, son," Anderson said, leaning back. Martha had stilled her movements now, although Castle couldn't be sure if it was because she was on alert from the gun being shoved her way or if it were out of curiosity of the next step. "Tell her."

The sick smile that crossed his face made Beckett want to shoot him anyway, but she held back, the bile resting in the back of her throat.

"Kate," his voice was husky as he spoke. "Uh… you remember Dick Coonan?" He swallowed hard. "He didn't kill your mother, Kate." Beckett's gun dropped slightly, involuntarily as she stared ahead, meeting Anderson Cross' gaze.

"I did," he said slowly, evenly.

* * *

Beckett lowers on the couch, staring straight forward into his office. The grip on her gun was tightened so much that her knuckles went white. Castle couldn't help but notice how lifeless she looked and it panged within him to know that it was his cause.

Oh _god_, they'd never been here before.

They'd had arguments in their partnership, things that left them both storming off in anger. But this wasn't anger; this wasn't even near the borderline of anything similar. No, the look that surrounded his fiancée right then was nothing short of defeat.

"Castle…" she was paler than he could've ever remembered seeing her before, her eyes blank as she stared ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. Even when he settled on his knees in front of her, she stared past him. "You… you knew?"

He felt himself crumble around her words, tears bridging his eyes and he can't control it at all. Knowing this has broken him, knowing that there was nothing he could do – nothing he could stop about his lineage that would

"I can't be here," she said suddenly, bouncing up on her feet. Her knee nearly caught his eye but he tilted fast enough and stared back up at her. It took him a bit longer, the ache from a broken kneecap that he'd done trying to impress her determining his speed, but he was on his feet in front of her a moment later, watching as she crossed back and forth in front of him. "I can't be here with him…" she swallowed, looking up at him for the first time since she'd come back into the room. "I can't be here with you."

Her confession stunned him, so much so that he barely caught onto the fact that she was leaving and moving away from him. He grabbed her arm last minute and watched as a fire ignited in her eyes, the anger coming full force. "Castle," she grunted, gripping onto his hand with her own, fingernails intentionally digging into the flesh there. "Let. Me. Go."

This isn't how they do anything anymore. They're getting married; they promised to talk to each other when things like this happened but she pulled his hand off her arm and opened the front door before he could think of a coherent thing to say to her.

All she left in her wake was confusion, anger, and sadness.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the late post. I originally had the dates for posting Monday and Friday. I've changed that to Wednesday and Saturday. Sorry about the confusion!


	6. Chapter 6

Kate shook as she slipped into her apartment, swelling with anger and fear. The events that had passed kept rushing through her mind at a tempered pace. She was mad at her husband-to-be; if _mad_ were well enough of a descriptor. To be frank, she desired nothing more than to ring his neck. "Oh, god," she slid down against the leather of her couch, palm against her mouth.

Swelled anger became ignorance as she stared at the wall with a blank expression. Beckett was many things: challenging, maddening; descriptions her fiance would be proud to provide. But, one of the many lessons she'd learned were that words meant nothing. Condolences and promises for a better future were better supported by actions. Neither of which Rick could provide her now.

As the anger bubbled once more she stood from her couch. Then turning toward the door, left the apartment. There wasn't allotted time for mourning now, not with Jackson Hunt on the loose. She had to dedicate each moment she had to finding the evidence needed to put him behind bars.

If she could.

The fact remained that William Bracken was the driving force behind the murder. Jackson was nothing more than a foot soldier in a war that had started years ago. Long before her involvement and long before her mother's involvement. Yet, Kate knew she had nothing to hold onto. There was no physical proof that Bracken even hired these men to do his dirty work. Only spoken word and even she didn't hold onto that now.

She scrubbed her palm against her eye socket as she forced herself to think clear. Encased in her apartment's elevator, it was only her there. But she would not shed a tear, she couldn't allow a moment of weakness now.

The hardened casing of her wall built up around her, she was confident. Castle's help or not, she'd find closure for herself and for her mother.

* * *

Beckett saw glances from her co-workers when she came in solo but ignored them. Esposito and Ryan were wiser than she'd anticipated, stepping into the case instead. Questions would come later, she was sure, but it was enough for now. "We've got an APB put out on Jackson Hunt," Esposito said at her side, beaming with pride.

She beamed with him, his accomplishment enough to keep her grounded. She thought about telling the boys about what she'd learned. Perhaps she could give an anonymous tip of his location. Yet, as mad as she was with Castle, she couldn't do it. She couldn't pull together the courage she needed for such an act.

She was angry with herself, then, remembering that there was a time before Castle. A time when she would have turned on him without question. Six years of having him chip against the cement wall had softened her.

All this would be a lot easier if Richard Castle hadn't wormed his way into her life. But he did and she fell for him completely unconditional. It was impossible for her to not see the good. "Let me know if you get a call on that," she told them and then disappeared into the break room. The need for coffee hit her and there was no turning back.

* * *

Beckett was right. Castle knew she was and knew that he should've listened. There had been numerous occasions that entailed rough circumstances like this before. But, there was nothing quite this moment. The hold his father had on him, even without knowing whom he was, was unsettling.

Jackson had left just the way he'd came, like mist through a grate. He sat beside his mother on the couch, both worn from the experience. "Oh, Richard," she sighed and placed a palm on his leg. "I had no idea."

Of course she would not; he'd given her no indication. When rescuing Alexis from Paris just the year before, he'd run in with Jackson. His mother had known about it but she hadn't questioned any further. What she was referring to instead, though, was the news that presented itself earlier. For a moment, Castle forgot that Martha was in the bedroom at that same moment.

Her hearing cushioned by the closed door meant nothing; she was always sharp as a fox. "Mother," he tried to find the words that stuck within his throat. "I didn't know either... until just recently."

Yet, for the few moments he'd known this piece of information he had withheld it. It was completely uncharacteristic of him and even he understood that. For the past six years, everything he'd experienced had gone through Beckett. How could one moment, one person change the entirety of the dynamic they'd built?

"Oh, Mother," he whispered, his voice wavering with guilt. "I screwed up completely."

Martha placed her palm instead on his shoulder, rubbing a slow circle there. For a selfish moment, Castle wished that she had lied to him all those years before. His mother had been blunt from the first moment he had asked about his father. There was never a chance of lies.

"My boy," she began. "Katherine has just learned that her mother... that your father murdered her mother." Her throat became dry whilst speaking and her hands clenched together at her waist. "This isn't something that can fix itself with a box of chocolates or an apology."

As much as he hated to admit the reality he was stuck within, his mother was right. The direct murder of her mother wasn't done by his hand, but he had covered up information. If she could find it in her heart to one day forgive his lapse of judgment, all was well. The question still remained if he could.

* * *

"Mr. Hunt." The voice, even after all these years, still ran through his system like ice water. "It's good to see you."

"I assume you've gotten information about Katherine Beckett learning the truth?" Jackson wasn't there to play games with Bracken. This was a simple house call, more or less and he wanted it completed as prompt as possible.

William straightened in his chair, meeting Jackson's gaze. Without speaking, Jackson was aware that he had heard everything there was to hear. Bracken had told him once, long before then, that nothing slipped past him. Impressed was not an appropriate description.

"Mr. Hunt, I am aware that there was some influence of yours with this, as well." Bracken folded his palms together in front of him and stared toward Jackson. He cocked an eyebrow without another word. "It has come to my attention a connection between yourself and Richard Castle. A connection that has left me somewhat startled."

"And because Richard has a relationship with Katherine this is my issue?" Jackson became defensive in an instant.

"Well," William licked his lips. "It was your son whose loud mouth notified Ms. Beckett. How would it not be your fault, Mr. Hunt?"

Jackson stepped toward the desk and bent, pressing his palms flat against the wood. "Mr. Bracken, sir," he spoke low and dangerous. "You would be wise to second guess your words from now on."

"Or you would be wise to watch yours." William didn't flinch a moment, looking between the suits at his sides. "Gentlemen, why don't you escort Mr. Hunt back to his car?"

* * *

Outside, there were friends waiting for him. He saw a flash of a gold badge and then felt his arms pressed behind his back. "Anderson Cross, you are under arrest for the murder of Ted Rollins. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Jackson's head spun as he saw Katherine across the way, watching him from afar. Anger swelled within him once more and he opened his mouth to speak, to yell. Nothing came out.

"I'd hold off on that, if I were you." A rough voice said in his ear. He didn't have a chance to look over at the source. Instead, he met the interior of a police vehicle and the rough voiced male slid in beside him.

"Back to the 12th, LT." He ordered.

* * *

Lock up wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Much more pleasant than the area he spent time earlier in his lifetime. Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, though, and he turned his attention to the resonating sound. He was not at all surprised when he met the sorrowful gaze of his son.

"Jackson." He grunted, folding his arms across his chest. "I will not lie to you and say that I tried to persuade your release."

Jackson hadn't expected any more from his son. Richard would hold a grudge, of course and nothing would deter him. Dropping his gaze, Jackson stood from the bench and stepped toward Richard. "I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Unless you break yourself out again," Richard spat back at him. Jackson clenched his fists and held back a grimace. "I suppose that you already have a plan for that." Richard shook his head. "While you're arranging escape routes, Jackson, do me a favour and call off the troops. Call off everything that might be going my family or Kate."

Jackson looked straight behind him, shaking his head. Bracken was too aware of the effect of Kate knowing this piece of information now. "It's too late now, son." Jackson told him. "There's a war waging... even you cannot stop that."

Castle felt his heart sink in his chest.

* * *

A/N: Oops?


End file.
